


the star and the rose

by empathieves



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-02-15 20:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18676546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathieves/pseuds/empathieves
Summary: astarael lavellan is at the conclave to observe and report back to her clan. she ends up with a mark on her hand and a heavy burden.leanora trevelyan is at the conclave to find out if the war is ending. she ends up with a mark on her hand and a lot of people depending on her.together, with their matching marks, they're going to save the world.





	1. the wrath of heaven: the conclave

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes you have eight different inquisitors and end up shipping two of them with each other more than with any of the companion characters. and then you write an au. and it gets away from you very quickly.

The ridge that Astarael is camped on overlooks the Temple of Sacred Ashes, but it’s also fairly exposed to the wind. It stopped snowing a few hours ago but the wind is still blowing strong, and she has to squint to watch the procession of mages and templars into the valley. When the Keeper had told her to go to the Conclave and observe what happened she’d jumped on the chance. Now she regrets her hastiness. It won’t begin for hours, even if most of the important people have arrived, and her legs are beginning to cramp and go numb from the cold. She’s dressed for the warmer climates the clan had been travelling in, not for this frozen landscape. There weren’t clothes she could take from their supplies either; their previous Keeper had sold their winter clothing last year, and the new Keeper had not yet come up with the supplies to trade for new clothing. She shivers, and gets up from her crouched position at the edge of the ridge. Walking will warm her up, and she’ll be able to get a closer look at what’s happening in the Temple. With her hood up to cover her ears and her face concealed by its shadows to hide the vallaslin she looks like any other mage who’s come to see if the war is over. She hesitates, then leaves her staff behind. It wouldn’t be helpful to get herself in a fight, and some people see staves as provocation now.

 

She begins the slow trek down to the Temple, shivering. She has an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Instinct tells her to go back almost as soon as she begins to walk, but she presses on. She knows more than anyone that sometimes instinct must be ignored.

 

-

 

Leanora stares down at the Temple where the Conclave is to take place with a grim expression. She’s only here because she’s between jobs, but she’s concerned anyway. She’s been a mercenary for seven years now and while there’s plenty of work since the war began she doesn’t like the way it’s all headed. Her usual work is assassinations, or cleaning up bandit camps. Lately it’s been nothing but terrified normal folk, wanting protection from the war spilling into their towns and offering meager food and family heirlooms as payment. She likes her lifestyle usually. She doesn’t anymore. It’s harder and harder to get paid, because it’s harder and harder to take payment from people scared out of their minds. Nobles are easy to take money from because she knows for certain that they have enough. These people don’t.

 

So she made her way here to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, which stands solemnly in the winter light. She’s got a few hours yet til the meeting begins, but she feels an itch between her shoulder blades. She’s been in enough life-or-death situations to know what that itch is. The feeling that something’s not right, that there’s more going on here than meets the eye. She grits her teeth and makes her way down to the Temple. She wants to see the lay of the land. Just in case.

 

-

 

Astarael is walking towards the entrance to the Temple when she hears the screams. Across from her, coming around the other side of the building, is another woman - human, and very tall. There’s a moment of eye contact and then both of them run to the door of the Temple, because there’s clearly someone in trouble in there and Astarael has  _ never _ been someone who could walk away from someone in need.

 

-

 

Leanora hears the screams as she comes around the corner, and then she sees a figure across 

from her. A woman, tiny and with a hood over her face. She catches a glimpse of panicked eyes and then they both begin to run for the doors, towards the screaming. She doesn’t know what’s going on, but if there’s a fight happening she’s going to be in it.   
  


-

 

After the explosion they find two women on the ground, and hushed voices murmur about how they fell out of a rip in the air. How a woman made of light stood behind them. And when they see how they fell, the tall red headed human collapsed with a small Dalish elf on top of her, protective almost, they whisper other things. How could they not, when the human looks like what many people imagine Andraste to be? How could they not, when so many remember the Dissonant Verses, where Shartan was Andraste’s most devoted disciple? Soon the murmurs become fervent, growing in excitement. Has the Maker’s bride returned to them at last?

 

-

 

When Astarael wakes she immediately begins to panic. She stays outwardly calm, maintaining composure like she used to in the clan whenever anything went wrong, but internally she’s stumbling. There are holes in her memory - she can’t remember how she got here, to this dank little room, and she can’t remember what happened inside the Temple. She remembers opening the door, but not what she saw there. She freezes for a moment, absolutely certain for a split second that she’s been possessed, but that can’t be right - there were hundreds of templars at the Conclave and surely one of them would have killed her had she become an abomination.

 

There’s a throbbing, deep pain in her hand. She looks down and sees green light, like the fire she used to conjure when she was younger. It flares as she looks at it, sending shooting pain up her arm, and she nearly cries out.

 

The door bangs open, and a woman walks in. She’s wearing armour with a familiar symbol emblazoned on it, and Astarael vaguely remembers a story the Keeper told her once - about Seekers, and how their powers are similar to templars. She feels sick.

 

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now. The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for you, and the woman you were with.”

Astarael reels for a second, a wave of second-hand grief overwhelming her. She feels tears welling up in her eyes and blinks them back; they won’t help her. She clenches her fists. She opens her mouth to speak, but she doesn’t know what she’s going to say.

 

“All of them? All those people?” is what comes out, and she’s mortified to hear her voice break. She wishes she had somewhere to hide and regain her composure. She has had enough of death.

 

The Seeker seems startled for a moment. It clicks the second that she sees the facial expression, that they thought she did it.

 

“I didn’t do it. I swear, I would never - I wanted the war to be over! I wouldn’t want to prolong it!” She can feel the hysteria rising in her voice as she speaks, but it’s important for them to know. Her clan hasn’t been able to trade without fear since the war began, and the roads aren’t safe for anyone anymore. That was the point of her being sent to the Conclave in the first place - to know what the resolution would be, if there was one, and to immediately return to her clan so that they could plan around whatever new ensuing chaos would arise. She hates the war, hates the reasons the war started, hates all the death and destruction that it rose from and the further atrocities it’s caused.

 

“Explain this, then.” The woman reaches out and grabs Astarael’s right arm, where the strange magic is flaring, and she grits her teeth against the pain.

 

“I...can’t. I don’t remember what happened. One moment I was running into the Temple, because someone was screaming, and then I woke up here.”

 

“Screaming?”

 

“So loud. I thought they were dying. The other woman, the one you found me with - is she tall? Red hair?”

 

“Yes. We presumed you knew her, conspired with her.”

 

“I...no. I’d never met her before. We both heard the screams, we both ran to the door. That’s all I remember. I don’t even know her name.”

 

The Seeker is frowning. Astarael has no idea whether that’s a good thing or not, but it’s better than more accusations. After a moment, though, she can’t stop herself from asking.

 

“Is she okay? The other woman. I don’t know her but...she was brave. She didn’t even hesitate to run in with me.”

 

“She has a mark on her hand. Like you. Otherwise, she has the same injuries as you do. Some scrapes on her hands, and bruises.”

 

“What happened? Why did we live?”

 

“There was an explosion. We don’t know how you survived. It...will be easier to show you. Both of you.”

 

-

 

Leanora’s been questioned three times in the last hour since she woke, by three different people. She’s tired and irritated and more than a little freaked out, and she would  _ really _ like some answers but no one’s giving her any. She’s repeated, over and over, that she didn’t know the little elf woman who apparently survived with her, that she has no idea what caused the explosion, that she doesn’t know what the fucking  _ magical mark _ on her hand is because she’s not a  _ fucking mage. _

 

After yet another questioning by some lackey there’s an interruption. A woman is at the door, calling her interrogator over and whispering to him. He nods and pulls Leanora off the floor.

 

“I want to show you what you lived through. Maybe then you will understand why we are suspicious.” the woman says, and gestures through the door. Outside it, in a small entryway, is the elf that Leanora remembers from outside the Temple. Her hood is back from her face now, and she looks young and far more fragile than Leanora would have guessed she’d be. There are markings on her face that look like tree branches, and her eyes are an eerie shade of warm brown - more like amber than an actual brown. Her hair is short, curling over her forehead. She can’t be more than five foot tall.

 

“Hello. I’m Astarael,” she says, and reaches out with her tied up hands - one of which, Leanora notes, is pulsing with the same green energy as her own left hand. She hasn’t shaken all of her noble upbringing, so she reaches out with her own bound hands and takes Astarael’s in them.

 

“Leanora,” she says. Her own voice is hoarser than it should be. She wonders, absently, if she has been screaming in her sleep.

 

The woman who appears to be in charge clears her throat. She opens the heavy door to the outside, and waves them through.

 

The first thing Leanora notices is that the world is oddly green, like the way everything looks just before a hailstorm. She looks up without thinking, to check if there is a storm on the way, and what she sees is unthinkable. She can’t breathe for a moment. There’s a hole in the sky, full of green light and swirling, and she has never been one for the Chantry even in her worst moments but for a second all she can think is  _ Maker, what has happened here? _

 

She turns to look at the others, watches Astarael notice the sky and fall still. 

 

“We call it the Breach. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.”

 

“Was the explosion magical?” Astarael says, her eyes on the Breach.

 

“We believe so. And unless we act  the breach may grow until it swallows the world.”

 

Leanora looks back up at the Breach, swallowing. As she does it seems to flex, growing in size, and there’s an immediate shooting pain all up her left arm. She hears Astarael cry out at the same time she does, and almost involuntarily the pain sends her to her knees.

 

“Each time the Breach expands, your marks spread… and it is killing both of you. The marks may be the key to stopping this but there isn’t much time.”

 

Leanora glances over at Astarael, makes eye contact. The elf’s eyes are full of grief and pain, but she’s also undeniably calm.

 

“I want to help. Will you help?” she says. Leanora wants to say no. She wants to say  _ fuck this _ and leave these people to it, leave them to the end of the world. She wants to be selfish, but she can’t - she won’t. This is bigger than her.

 

“I’ll help,” she says, looking into Astarael’s strange eyes, and she wishes it felt less like an oath.

 

The woman looks down at them both for a moment, before pulling both of them to their feet and striding through the town, gesturing for them to follow. Around them people scowl, and spit at them. Leanora bares her teeth unconsciously.

 

“They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our Most Holy, Divine Justinia, head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead.” 

 

Soldiers open a gate ahead of them.

 

“We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed.”

 

The woman turns back, and brings out a dagger. Leanora flinches instinctively, but the woman merely cuts her bonds, then turns to Astarael and cuts hers.

 

“There will be a trial for you both. I can promise no more.”

 

“That’s more than I thought I would get.” Astarael mutters, and Leanora is reminded of how terrifying this must be for her. She’s  _ Dalish _ . 

 

“Come, it is not far.”

 

“Where are we going?” Leanora asks.   
  


“Your marks must be tested on something smaller than the Breach.”

 

“Wait, what’s your name?”

 

“Cassandra. Now, quickly. Across the bridge.”


	2. the wrath of heaven: the first rift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leanora and astarael deal with a lot of dead bodies and their first demon encounters.

The bridge is awful.

 

There are bodies everywhere, and wounded where the dead are not. People are praying, nursing their injuries, and there is the unmistakable smell of burning flesh.

 

Astarael follows Cassandra closely, glancing over occasionally at Leanora, whose face is almost impassive even as they pass a bloody mess that was once a person. She wonders at that - the woman is a human, but not much older than Astarael herself, and yet she’s barely flinching at the death around them. 

 

They reach the end of the bridge, where a large gate stands. Cassandra calls out for the soldiers guarding it to open it.

 

There’s a path beyond that curves to the left, up a rise. Astarael wishes, again, for warmer clothing, and remembers that the last time she had that thought she was in a very different situation. Her hand throbs. The path is littered with yet more corpses, and burning barricades. A few men run past, one of them screaming about the end of the world. It’s an understandable sentiment.

 

At the top of the hill, shearing pain goes up her arm again. She hears Leanora cry out next to her. Cassandra helps them both up again, something like sympathy creeping onto her face.

 

“The pulses are coming faster now. The larger the Breach grows, the more rifts appear, the more demons we face.”

 

“How did we survive?” Astarael asks, her eyes on yet another body, burned beyond recognition. It seems unimaginable that either her or Leanora could have lived.

 

“They said that the two of you...stepped out of a rift, then fell unconscious. They say a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was. Everything farther in the valley was laid waste, including the Temple of Sacred Ashes. I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

 

_ Stepped out of a rift. _ She turns this over in her mind, not entirely comfortable with all of its implications. The Breach opens up into the Fade - that has to be true, because there are demons coming through it. It stands to reason that any other rifts would also lead into the Fade. But to have stepped out of one, they had to have been  _ physically in the Fade _ . Her head pounds. She’s learned a lot from Keeper Deshanna in the last year since the old Keeper died, has even read books that they found along the road, but she knows that being physically in the Fade isn’t  _ possible _ . Or it shouldn’t be. There are human stories, of course, about the Magisters and the Golden City, but even acknowledging those as true - it’s not right. There’s something  _ wrong _ about it, wrong in a way that makes Astarael’s skin crawl. She pulls her thoughts away from it, feeling a little ill.

 

There’s a bridge ahead, and they move toward it in silence. When they begin to cross, she sees something out of the corner of her eye, and as she turns to shout a warning whatever it is hits the bridge. They fall, tumbling down to the frozen river below. Astarael’s ears are ringing. There’s cold, hard ice under her cheek and her body is aching where it hit the ground. She turns her head and sees Leanora, getting up from the ice beside her. She offers Astarael her hand, and Astarael reaches out and grasps it, leveraging herself to her feet. Cassandra is ahead of them, grim-faced but uninjured. 

 

A meteor strikes the ice further up the river, and Astarael has a moment to think  _ ah, a meteor, that’s what it was _ , but then there’s green light where the impact was and a Shade begins to coalesce there. She swallows. Cassandra pulls her sword and moves her shield from her back to her arm.

 

“Stay behind me!” she shouts back at them, even as she’s moving to engage the demon in combat.

 

There’s a moment where Astarael is actually going to do just that, stay and not engage, but then a second Shade is forming closer to where she and Leanora are and she’s looking for a weapon without even thinking.

 

There’s a staff to her left, and two daggers - she picks up the staff and tosses the daggers at Leanora, hoping the woman knows how to use them, and then she’s moving into her stances, pulling the magic from within and sending it in sharp crackling blasts at the Shade. Then there’s a flickering almost, like a shadow, behind it and Leanora is there, pushing the daggers into the Shade’s back, her teeth bared. She steps back and is gone again, and Astarael sends another barrage of magic at the demon, until it’s finally dead. She looks over to Cassandra to see that she’s defeated the other Shade too, and sighs.

 

“It’s over.” she says, relief in her voice, and then Cassandra is striding back. The look on her face sends Astarael back a step. She raises her sword.

 

“Drop your weapons.  _ Now. _ ”

 

Astarael freezes, then considers - Cassandra still suspects them, she’s got Templar abilities and has just demonstrated ruthlessness in battle, Astarael is a  _ Dalish mage _ who hasn’t been of any help yet with the Breach - and nods.

 

“All right, I’ll disarm.”

 

“I won’t. I just got attacked by a demon, and I don’t want to take any more of them on with just my fists.” Leanora says. Her tone is polite, almost conversational, but she’s still breathing hard from the battle and there’s demon blood on the daggers she’s still got in her hands.

 

“You’re right. That’s not fair to you. I should remember that you both came willingly. I cannot protect you alone. You should not be defenceless.”

 

Astarael releases the breath she’s been holding.

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Here, take these potions. Maker knows what we will face ahead.” Cassandra says, her frown deepening for a moment as she hands potions to them both.

 

“Where are all your soldiers?” Leanora asks.

 

“At the forward camp, or fighting. We are on our own for now.” 

 

Cassandra leads them over the frozen river, until they come to a small hill and make their way up it. As they come to the crest of it Astarael spots more Shades forming on the ice below. 

 

“If we flank them we may gain an advantage.” Cassandra says, moving forward as she says it. Astarael moves to the right, Leanora to the left. The fighting feels natural, fluid. She hasn’t used a staff like this before - it has a lightning affinity, sparking along her skin, and it feels good. Her own staff, abandoned up on the ridge and probably destroyed by the explosion, had an ice affinity that never really worked well with her. She hates the cold too much to ever really use that kind of magic easily.

 

The Shades fall quickly enough, and they make their way to a steep stone staircase that’s been cut into the side of a hill. Cassandra begins to climb and they follow her. Astarael almost slips on the snow a few times, but manages to stay upright. Her boots are made for quiet walking on a carpet of dry leaves and undergrowth, not for maintaining grip on ice or snow.

 

“We’re getting close to the rift. You can hear the fighting.”

 

“More demons?” Leanora asks.

 

“Almost certainly.” Cassandra answers drily.

 

At the top of the stairs Cassandra leads them right, and over a stone wall. Ahead of them are several people - a few human soldiers, a bald elf holding a staff, a dwarf wielding what looks like a crossbow. There are demons scattered among them, and the fight doesn’t look to be going well. In the middle of it all is what looks like a tear, hanging in midair - it’s bright green, glowing, almost the exact shade of the marks on Leanora’s and her own hands. She swallows, steps forward and casts just as Leanora leaps at one of the Shades - Cassandra is moving on her left, her shield forward and her head down as she bludgeons another.

 

The demons fall, one by one, and when there are none left the bald elf steps forward, grabs both Leanora’s and Astarael’s hands and pulls them up, splayed with the mark facing outward, at the rift. 

 

“Quickly, before more come through!”

 

There’s a sense of  _ pulling _ , like the feeling of magic but not at the same time, and Astarael can feel a sensation similar to when she swims too far down in a lake and then has to pull herself back up - like a dragging sensation, weightless but also too heavy, and the relief that floods her when the feeling completes is almost exactly the same as when her head would break the surface of the water.

 

The rift has closed. Leanora is staring at her own hand, mystified. Astarael sympathises. That was unlike anything else she’s ever felt, in all her years of casting.

 

“What did you do?” Leanora asks the bald elf.

 

“ _ I  _ did nothing. The credit goes to the two of you.”

 

“How?” Leanora asks, confusion and frustration in her voice. She’s not a mage, Astarael thinks, not even close.

 

“Instinct. I have no idea what magic this is, but we closed the rift on pure instinct.” she says, speaking without thinking.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed those marks upon your hands. I theorized the marks might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake – and it seems I was correct.” the other mage says. He has a way of speaking that is unlike the other elves she’s met. Astarael looks closer at him. 

 

“Meaning they could also close the Breach itself.” Cassandra says, speaking to the man.

 

“Possibly.” He turns to Astarael and Leanora. “It seems you hold the keys to our salvation.”

 

“Good to know! Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” the dwarf says, laughing. He steps forward.

 

“Varric Tethras: rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong.” he says, and then winks at Cassandra. She glares at him.

 

“Nice to meet you.” she says, smiling at him. She’s always liked people like Varric - people who can joke no matter what the circumstances.

 

“Nice crossbow.” Leanora adds.

 

“Ah, isn’t she? Bianca and I have been through a lot together.”

 

“You named your crossbow Bianca?” Astarael says, a little incredulous. It’s a name for a person, not a weapon.

 

“Of course. And she’ll be great company in the valley.”

 

“Absolutely not. Your help is appreciated, Varric, but…” Cassandra says, trailing off like she’s unsure of what to say next.

 

“Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. You need me.” he replies. Cassandra makes a disgusted noise. 

 

“My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I’m pleased to see you both still live.” the elf says, inclining his head.

 

“He means, ‘I kept that mark from killing you two while you slept.'” Varric says.

 

“Oh. Thank you.” she says.

 

“Thank me if we manage to close the Breach without killing you in the process.” Solas says, which is a little more brutal honesty than Astarael would prefer at this point but she doesn’t comment on it.

“Cassandra, you should know: the magic involved here is unlike any I have ever seen,” Solas says, turning to Cassandra. His face is grave. “One of your prisoners is a mage, but the other is not. And I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power, let alone being able to transfer it in part to another.”

 

“Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.” Cassandra says. Her face looks thoughtful again.

 

“Well, Bianca’s excited!” Varric says, cheerfully.

 

“This way, down the bank. The road ahead is blocked.” Cassandra says, gesturing to where they need to go.

 

“We must move quickly.” Solas says.

 

They begin to move, climbing over rubble and down a steep narrow path. Astarael slips at one point, her boots finally giving up traction on the snow, and Leanora grabs her upper arm and keeps her upright.

 

“You alright?” she says, frowning.

 

“I’m alright. Just...I’m not wearing the right equipment for this weather. My boots don’t like the snow.”

 

“Ah.” Leanora says, the corner of her mouth twitching. They keep moving, and after a few minutes Leanora lets go of her arm - but she stays close, and she keeps an eye on Astarael’s feet.

 

“Demons ahead!” Solas calls from his position near the front of their group.

 

“Glad you brought me now, Seeker?” Varric asks. Cassandra makes a noise like an angry cat. Astarael tries not to laugh, reminding herself that she is still a prisoner - even if right now she doesn’t feel like one in the slightest.

 

They move into the open, where they can see the demons Solas had spotted. Two Shades and two Wraiths, on the frozen river. Astarael lifts her staff and starts casting almost at the exact same time as Solas does, and Leanora and Cassandra both move forward to engage in close quarters. Varric stands in between Astarael and Solas, firing his crossbow steadily and with uncanny accuracy. She watches a crossbow bolt pierce the centre of a Shade’s brow and shivers a little. She’s always found archers to be a bit scary.

 

Once it’s over they continue moving, and Leanora returns to walk beside Astarael. She’s not sure why. Maybe the taller woman is just ensuring she doesn’t fall over again?

They pass a burning cabin, more corpses. Astarael holds her breath as they move past it. The smell of burning flesh has always turned her stomach. It reminds her of the bandit attacks on her clan - there had been more than one occasion where one of their people had been burned by torches before they had managed to fight them off, and it was usually Astarael’s job to attend to the wounds.

 

As they begin to make their way to the stone stairs at the north of the frozen riverbed, Varric speaks up.

 

“So, where you two from? The human I’m guessing is from the Free Marches, right?”

 

Leanora huffs. “Do I still have that much of an accent?”

 

“I’ve got an ear for it. I’m from Kirkwall, but you’re from… further east, maybe? Ansburg? Ostwick?”

 

Leanora smirks a little. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

“And what about you? You’re Dalish, obviously, but where’s your clan?”

 

“The northern Free Marches, at the moment. That’s where we usually travel.” Astarael says. 

 

“Did they send you here?” Solas asks, his voice unreadable. Astarael frowns at him.

 

“Yes, but I came willingly. The war has not been good for our people.” 

 

He falls silent at that, but Astarael is unsettled. He’s not a city elf, but his behaviour is very much not Dalish. She moves a little closer to Leanora. 

 

They make it to the foot of the stone stairs when another pulse of pain hits her mark. She hisses, and Leanora inhales sharply. Cassandra stops and looks back at them, concern in her face.

 

“Hold on. We haven’t much further.”

 

Leanora nods, and Astarael breathes in deeply. She straightens up and begins to climb the steps. They begin to wade through deeper snow at the top of them, and Leanora puts a dagger away to keep her arm free. Astarael looks up at her gratefully when she slips again in the snow. Gods, she needs better boots.

 

“So… are you innocent?” Varric asks. He’s very curious, Astarael notes.

 

“I don’t remember what happened.” Leanora says, and Astarael nods. “I don’t either.”

 

“That’ll get you every time. Should have spun a story.”

 

Cassandra huffs. “That’s what you would have done.”

 

“It’s more believable, and less prone to result in premature execution.”

 

Astarael winces. They have a Second in the clan at least, if she gets executed. A young man named Leylas. He had seemed talented enough, and he had a good moral backbone. Deshanna would be able to make him into a good First if she needed to. She pulled her thoughts away from the clan. No point in focusing on what happens if she gets killed. 

 

They come to more stairs; Astarael doesn’t groan, but it’s a near thing. She’s tired, her body aches, and the mark on her hand hurts more with each step. She grits her teeth and continues on anyway.

 

There are more demons at the top of the stairs, more fighting. Astarael pushes the magic out, but it’s more of a struggle this time. Less fluid. Leanora isn’t struggling as much, but she does get nicked by a Wraith’s claw. There’s blood flowing freely from a cut on her arm. 

 

“I hope Leliana made it through all this.” Cassandra says, wiping the sweat from her brow.

 

“She’s resourceful, Seeker.” Varric replies. 

 

“We will see for ourselves at the forward camp. We’re almost there.” Solas says. Astarael sags in relief. Almost there. And then she can rest for a few minutes.

 

They continue up the hill, passing two burning wagons and more bodies as they go. Astarael tries not to look at them. Then, finally, at the top of the hill they turn and go up some more stone steps.

 

There’s another tear hanging in the air, green light glowing from within it. Astarael can see a gate behind it. She brings her staff forward again, resolutely ignoring the burning in her muscles as she does it. 

 

“Another rift!” Cassandra cries, and when demons begin to form on the snow she swings into combat. Leanora swears, some guttural phrase that Astarael can’t make out, and then she’s sheathing her daggers to the hilt in a wraith’s back. Astarael pulls the lightning from herself and casts, taking down the other wraith, and when a soldier cries out that they keep coming she looks at Leanora and catches her eye.

 

They move as one to the rift, raising their hands together, and again there is that strange sucking sensation and that feeling of relief as the pressure breaks. Astarael sighs when it’s done, and almost falls to her knees there in the snow. Leanora puts her arm around Astarael’s waist and keeps her standing.

 

“The rift is gone! Open the gate!” Cassandra shouts. 

 

“Right away, Lady Cassandra!”

 

“We are clear for the moment. Well done.” Solas says.

 

“Whatever that thing on your hand is, it’s useful.” Varric says, leaning on his crossbow. Astarael smiles wearily at him. 

 

The gate opens, and Leanora helps Astarael through it into the forward camp.


	3. the wrath of heaven: the forward camp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> leanora and astarael have their first encounter with chancellor roderick, and get a few seconds to talk.

The forward camp is a bridge, filled with people and supplies. Leanora adjusts her grip on Astarael’s waist and helps her forward, following Cassandra to what looks like a crude desk set up in front of a tent. There’s a red-headed woman there, pretty but very stern, arguing with a man in what is unmistakably Chantry robes. She bristles a bit as they approach. She doesn’t like the Chantry that much, and she especially doesn’t like the way the man’s voice is rising as they get closer.

 

“We must prepare the soldiers!” the red-head is saying. 

 

“We will do no such thing.”

 

“The prisoners must get to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It is our only chance!”

 

“You have already caused enough trouble without resorting to this exercise in futility.”

 

Leanora frowns. What a patronising man.

 

“ _ I _ have caused trouble?”

 

“You, Cassandra, the Most Holy – haven’t you all done enough already?”

 

“You’re not in command here!”

 

“Enough! I will not have it!”

 

“Ah, here they come.” the man says, gesturing at them as they reach the desk.

 

“You made it. Chancellor Roderick, this is–”

 

“I know who they is. As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this criminal to Val Royeaux to face execution.”

 

“'Order me’? You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!” Cassandra says. Leanora’s respect for Cassandra ratchets up a notch. Capable in combat and not willing to take any shit. 

 

“And you are a thug, but a thug who supposedly serves the Chantry!”

 

“We serve the Most Holy, Chancellor, as you well know.” the red-head says, folding her arms.

 

“Justinia is dead! We must elect her replacement, and obey her orders on the matter.” Chancellor Roderick says. Leanora straightens up, and she can feel Astarael do the same beside her.

 

“And the Breach? The demons?” Astarael says, her voice quiet. Leanora nods. 

 

“ _ You _ brought this on us in the first place!”

 

Leanora steps forward without thinking. 

 

“No, we didn’t.”

 

Roderick ignores her, turning to Cassandra.

 

“Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless.”

 

“We can stop this before it’s too late.”

 

“How? You won’t survive long enough to reach the temple, even with all your soldiers.”

 

“We must get to the temple. It’s the quickest route.”

 

“But not the safest. Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains.” the red-head says. Leanora assumes she must be Leliana, the woman Cassandra spoke of earlier. The one Varric said was resourceful. Looking at her, Leanora feels inclined to agree.

 

“We lost contact with an entire squad on that path. It’s too risky.”

 

“Listen to me. Abandon this now, before more lives are lost.” Roderick says. Leanora feels her upper lip pull up in a sneer, but before she can say anything another bolt of agonising pain surges through her arm. Astarael cries out beside her. 

 

When they look up the Breach has gotten bigger. Leanora swallows. Fuck, she hates magic.

 

“How do  _ you _ think we should proceed?” Cassandra says, turning to her and Astarael.

 

Leanora looks down at the elf. 

 

“I think the mountain path. As a group we’re better suited to stealth than a frontal assault. Cassandra is the only one of us who fights like a soldier.”

 

Leanora almost smiles at her, before catching herself. She’s smart, this tiny woman with strange eyes. She thinks like someone experienced in battle. Leanora wonders at that, but puts the thought away for a less dire time.

 

She turns back to Cassandra.

 

“I agree with Astarael. Use the mountain path. Work together. You all know what’s at stake.”

 

She glares at Chancellor Roderick for a second, and then hustles Astarael towards a crate so she can sit for a moment and take a potion. She can hear Cassandra continuing to speak behind them, but she tunes it out.

 

“Will you be alright to keep going?”

 

Astarael swallows the potion, making a face, and then nods.

 

“I have to be. I feel better now that I’ve drunk this,” she waves the bottle as she speaks, “and we have to try and stop that thing.”

 

“Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Leanora asks. She knows it’s probably a stupid question, but she doesn’t know much about magic.

 

Astarael frowns. 

 

“I can walk in the Fade when I dream, but the only stories of being physically in the Fade are human ones. And I’ve never heard of a tear in the barrier between us and the Fade. There are places where the veil is thin, but not broken.”

 

Leanora sighs.

 

“So we’re dealing with something we don’t know shit about.”

 

Astarael smiles a bit at that.

 

“Basically.”

 

Cassandra comes over to them at that point. 

 

“Are you ready?”

 

Leanora looks at Astarael and she nods. She turns to Cassandra.

 

“We’re ready.”


	4. the wrath of heaven: the mountain path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> astarael and leanora take the mountain path to the temple of sacred ashes, or what's left of it.

They make their way up an incline, the snow thick under their feet. Astarael can feel numbness beginning to settle in her bones. It’s colder the higher up they get. Her face feels windburned and tender. She wishes she’d been able to dress in winter clothes. She mutters in elven under her breath, cursing the old Keeper. The clan would have had more than enough supplies to outfit her for the journey if it wasn’t for him.

 

Solas looks back at her, frowning. She looks back at him and holds her gaze steady. He looks away first, and Astarael counts that as a win, albeit a small one. Something about him sets her teeth on edge. He doesn’t act Dalish, and he  _ definitely _ doesn’t act like a city elf. She doesn’t like it. There are elves who are clanless, who wander on the edges of society, but Deshanna had always been wary of them. She’d said that they were usually self taught magic users, cast out from clans who already had three mages and unable to find a clan to take them. She’d said they were dangerous, not only because they didn’t have the watchful eyes of a clan to prevent possession, but because they tended to do whatever was necessary to survive. Astarael didn’t think Solas belonged to that group either - he spoke with authority on magic, and self taught apostates didn’t usually have access to books or research. Still. She was going to be careful around him.

 

There’s a ladder ahead of them. Cassandra goes first, then Varric, then Solas. Astarael lets Leanora go ahead of her. Her boots cope much better with the wood of the ladder, even if it’s a little slick with ice. 

 

“The tunnel should be just ahead. The path to the temple lies just beyond it.” Cassandra calls out from the front of the group.

 

“What manner of tunnel is this? A mine?” Solas asks. 

 

“Part of an old mining complex. These mountains are full of such paths.” Cassandra answers, reaching the top of the ladder.

 

“And your missing soldiers are in there somewhere?” Varric asks.

 

“Along with whatever has detained them.” Solas says. 

 

“We shall see soon enough.”

 

There’s another ladder to climb, and then a right turn and some stairs. They move quickly, mindful of the soldiers providing a distraction below. Finally there’s another, shorter ladder, and then they’re looking into the mouth of a dark tunnel. Astarael readies her staff. As Cassandra steps forward they see a Shade and two Wraiths move forward out of the darkness, and together they make quick work of them. They move into the tunnel, Astarael at the rear, and while the darkness is not exactly reassuring at least she’s out of the wind for a bit. She follows Leanora’s back through the dark, up stairs and past balconies, and when there are more Shades and Wraiths ahead she sends lightning at them without a second thought. The air smells like ozone. 

 

Eventually they see daylight, and they leave the tunnel and return to the wind and snow. There are three corpses, blood pooling and slowly freezing in the cold, and Astarael closes her eyes to offer a brief prayer. 

 

Varric sighs heavily. “Guess we found the soldiers.”

 

“That cannot be all of them.” Cassandra says, kneeling and closing the eyes of the two who had died with their eyes open. Astarael is thankful. The sight of snow falling into empty eyes is something she does not want to prolong.

 

“So the others could be holed up ahead?” Varric asks.

 

“Our priority must be the Breach. Unless we seal it soon, no one is safe.” Solas says.

 

“Of course our priority is the Breach. But if we can save some people on our way then we will.” Leanora says, almost spitting the words, and Solas falls silent. Astarael makes eye contact with Leanora and mouths  _ thank you _ to her, and Leanora offers her a grim nod. It’s nice to know she’s not the only one that Solas is rubbing the wrong way.

 

There’s a rocky pathway ahead of them, visible even though snow covers parts of it, and they follow it down. As they move they hear fighting, and Cassandra rushes down the last few steps. 

 

Astarael sees the rift before she sees the soldiers, and she and Leanora move together toward it as the others engage the demons besetting the soldiers. There’s a brief pause when the demons are defeated but something in Astarael’s chest makes her wait. The rift isn’t ready to close. It’s not time yet. As she thinks it, the rift crackles, and two more demons pull themselves out of the ground. Terrors, this time, and she has to resist the urge to clap her hands over her ears when they screech. 

 

Leanora kills one while Cassandra takes the head off the other, and then they close the rift.

 

“Sealed, as before. You are becoming quite proficient at this.” Solas says. Astarael wonders if he’s just trying to make up for his priority talk.

 

“Let’s hope it works on the big one.” Varric says, a grim tone entering his voice.

 

Cassandra helps a soldier to her feet. She looks weary. Astarael sympathises.

 

“Thank the Maker you finally arrived, Lady Cassandra. I don’t think we could have held out much longer.”

 

“Thank our prisoners, Lieutenant. They insisted we come this way.”

 

“The prisoners? Then you…?” the Lieutenant says, looking between them. Astarael steps forward a little.

 

“It was worth saving you, if we could.” she says, dipping her head.

 

“Then you have my sincere gratitude.”

 

“The way into the valley behind us is clear for the moment. Go, while you still can.” Cassandra says to the Lieutenant, nodding toward the stone path they just came down.

 

“At once,” the Lieutenant says, before turning to the soldiers. “Quickly, let’s move!”

 

As the soldiers leave the vicinity Solas turns to Cassandra.

 

“The path ahead appears to be clear of demons as well.”

 

“Then let’s hurry, before that changes.” Cassandra says. “Down the ladders. That’s the way to the temple.”

 

The ladders are easy to slide down. And Astarael’s gloves protect her hands well from the splinters. There’s another steep hill ahead though, and she mournfully looks at her boots. 

 

They move quickly down the hill, and thankfully there are wooden boards interspersed in the snow that help Astarael’s grip. She doesn’t slip this time, though she can see Leanora still watching her just in case. It’s...comforting. She doesn’t know much about this woman, but she’s prepared to catch Astarael if she slips, and that’s a sign of a good heart if there ever was one.

 

“So… holes in the fade don’t just accidentally happen right?” Varric asks. Astarael tunes her ears into the conversation.

 

“If enough magic is brought to bear, it is possible.” Solas says.

 

“But there are easier ways to make things explode.”

 

“That is true.”

 

Cassandra interrupts. “We will consider how this happened once the immediate danger is past.”

 

As they round a corner Astarael can finally see the ruins ahead, and her breath catches in her throat. She hears Leanora swear beside her.

 

“What has happened here?” Astarael whispers, unable to stop the question from leaving her lips, and Cassandra turns to her.

 

“We don’t know.”


	5. the wrath of heaven: the temple of sacred ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> astarael and leanora enter the temple and encounter a pride demon. yikes.

They make their way into the Temple silently. Leanora keeps her steps light, swallowing against her trepidation. She’s no stranger to death - it’s her income, after all - but this is different. She’s never seen this level of destruction, this kind of indiscriminate murder. It makes her feel sick. She does what she does for money, but she has morals. She doesn’t kill innocents. She’s picky about her contracts. Every job she takes, she researches - she checks, weighs up whether this is a life that shouldn’t be snuffed out. Whoever did this didn’t care like she does. Whoever did this saw all the people gathered and decided their lives weren’t worth consideration.

 

She tries not to look at the bodies. She can see Astarael beside her, doing the same.

 

Cassandra stops, points up ahead.

 

“That is where you walked out the Fade and our soldiers found you. They said a woman was in the rift behind you. No one knows who she was.”

 

Leanora sees Astarael shiver beside her. She makes a note to ask her more about the Fade - she clearly needs more information about magic now that she’s got a weird glowing hand.

 

They move forward into the Temple proper. If the Breach was terrifying from afar, it’s downright mind-rending up close. Leanora clenches her fists and bites down the rising panic, breathes in. She doesn’t like this. She doesn’t deal with demons and tears in the sky, she deals with bandits and nobles with too much money and time - human shit, in other words, flesh and blood and bone. 

 

“The Breach is a long way up.” Varric says, and that eases the panic a bit. She snorts.

 

“No shit.” she says.

 

“You’re here! Thank the Maker.” says a voice from behind them. They turn to see Leliana, flanked by soldiers.

 

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” Cassandra says. Leliana gives her a steady nod, then turns and begins to direct her people. Cassandra turns to Leanora and Astarael, her face grim. 

 

“This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?”

  
  
  


Leanora nods. Astarael looks back up at the Breach.

 

“We’ll try, but I don’t know if we can reach that, much less close it.”

 

Leanora looks at her, considering. She has a point - the Breach  _ is  _ hanging in the sky, up amongst the clouds.

 

“No. This rift was the first and is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach.” Solas says. Leanora shrugs, deferring to his magical knowledge. Astarael is nodding anyway, so it has to make some kind of sense.

 

“Then let’s find a way down. And be careful.” Cassandra says. Leliana returns then, having finished giving her orders, and accompanies them as they make their way down to the main section to the Temple. 

 

There’s a winding, almost circular path that leads down to where they need to go. Leanora walks beside Astarael again, feeling better staying near her. Sure, her boots will probably be fine here, but part of her feels a little protective. The elf has proven she can handle herself, with her crackling lightning and her reflexes, but...she’s so small. It makes Leanora uneasy to be too far from her. She frowns at herself and tucks those thoughts away for another time. A temple that could be full of demons is not the time for introspection.

 

Leanora jumps as a deep, echoing voice breaks her reverie.

 

“Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice.”

 

“What are we hearing?” Cassandra asks, sounding discomfited.

 

“At a guess: The person who created the Breach.” Solas answers.

 

“Guy sounds creepy.” Leanora mutters.

 

They move past two of Leliana’s archers in position overlooking the rift. Up ahead there are strange outcroppings of red glowing rock, giving off strange coloured smoke. Astarael moves closer to her.

 

“You know this stuff is red lyrium, Seeker.” Varric says. Leanora hears something like real dread in his voice, and looks at him in surprise. He’s seemed fairly unshakeable so far.

 

“I see it, Varric.”

 

“But what it’s  _ doing _ here?”

 

“Magic could have drawn on lyrium beneath the temple, corrupted it…” Solas says.

 

“It’s evil. Whatever you do don’t touch it.” Varric says. 

 

“It’s singing. It’s awful.” Astarael says in a quiet voice, and moves closer to Leanora again. Varric looks at her with concern.

 

“You can hear it?”

 

“I’m more sensitive to magic than most people.” she says, and Leanora notes the look of interest that Solas gives her. She doesn’t like it.

 

The deep, disembodied voice speaks again.

 

“Keep the sacrifice still.”

 

Then another voice, a woman’s. 

 

“Someone help me!”

 

Cassandra swears, going for her sword by what seems like instinct. “That is Divine Justinia’s voice!”

 

They come to the final set of stairs, then have to drop into the pit that is now the main section of the Temple. There are more bones here, skulls littered around. Leanora feels a familiar rage begin to rise in her. 

 

They move forward, closer to the rift, and both Leanora’s and Astarael’s makes flare in unison. The voices begin to speak again.

 

“Someone help me!” Justinia says, and Leanora starts when the next voice is her own.

 

“What’s going on here?”

 

Cassandra turns to her. “That was your voice. Most Holy called out to you. But…”

 

A flash of white light blinds Leanora for a moment then, and she has the strange sensation of watching something that she knows isn’t happening. 

 

Divine Justinia hangs in the air, suspended by red energy wrapping around her arms in the middle of the temple. A shadowy figure looms behind her, strange red eyes glowing. Leanora watches as her and Astarael burst into the temple, both of them drawn by Justinia’s cries.

 

“What’s going on here?” Leanora of the past demands, her hand on her dagger.

 

“Run while you can! Warn them!” Justinia cries at them. 

 

“We have intruders. Kill them. Now.” the shadowy figure says, and then there is another flash of white light.

 

“You were there! Who attacked? And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?” Cassandra asks, her face pale.

 

“I don’t remember!” Astarael says, and Leanora nods. 

 

“Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place.” Solas says. Her turns to Cassandra.

 

“This rift is not sealed, but it is closed… albeit temporarily. I believe with the mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.”

 

“That means demons. Stand ready!” Cassandra shouts to the soldiers and archers around them, drawing her own sword as she speaks.

 

Astarael moves forward, closer to the rift. Leanora moves with her, and together they reach their hands up to the rift. It feels different this time - instead of a strange sucking feeling, there’s sense of being emptied out - like she’s pouring out a jug of water. The rift crackles. The energy stops. Astarael takes a few steps backward and Leanora follows her, unsure if it worked. 

 

Then a Pride demon drops from the rift and she kind of wishes it hadn’t worked.

 

“Now!” Cassandra shouts. Leanora hears the whistle as the archers release their arrows. It doesn’t seem to do much. The Pride demon laughs. The soldiers move in to fight, and Solas and Astarael start casting from a safer distance. Leanora draws her daggers and swears. She doesn’t know where the weak spots are on this damn thing, and it doesn’t help that she can’t reach it’s head.

 

“We must strip its defenses! Wear it down!” Cassandra says, her voice just a little shaky, and Leanora can get with that logic. It makes sense. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Astarael moving forward toward the rift, but then Pride demon is in front of her and she can’t keep watching to see what the elf is doing. 

 

She can feel her hand suddenly being pulled up, though, as the mark flashes and green light pours from it again toward the rift. The Pride demon shouts, and collapses to one knee. Astarael is standing by the rift, shifting from holding her staff from one hand to two.

 

“The demon is vulnerable – now!” Cassandra shouts, and they converge on the massive bulk of the demon. It looks considerably weaker when it next stands, but as it does more demons spawn from the rift. Leanora moves to deal with them, leaving the Pride demon to people who can take a little bit more of a hit, and when there’s a break in the fighting she moves with Astarael to pour magic into the rift again. Astarael’s panting after the second time, but she casts her lightning at the demon anyway, and this time it stays down. 

 

“Now! Seal the rift!” Cassandra shouts at them.

 

They stand together and raise their hands, and the feeling of suction is much worse this time. It feels like the rift is going to pull her into it, just pull her from the ground into the Fade, and she grits her teeth against it and keeps going. She feels Astarael grab her unmarked hand, gripping it tight, and it helps a little to have something solid to hang onto. She can vaguely hear Cassandra shouting  _ do it _ , but it sounds very far away. 

 

Finally, there’s a crack, and she feels a vague sense of completion. But it’s very short lived, because the world around her is going black and she can feel herself hitting the ground. She wonders if Astarael’s still holding her hand. Her eyes slip shut.


End file.
